Billionaire William’s Obsessed Claim

At the dinner table, Ethan curled his lips in a sneer: "Such a goody-two-shoes—definitely wife material, all right." 

Under the table, my fingers twisted nervously nonstop. 

Because sitting right across from me was Ethan’s uncle, William—the very man I’d slept with the night before, after getting dead drunk. 

That morning, I’d even mistaken him for a hired escort and stuffed fifty dollars into his pocket. 

Now, the hickey on his neck stared at me like a neon sign. 

His leather shoe hooked around the hem of my dress, and his eyes bore into me, cold and menacing.